Catwoman hadn't been wrong when she said Gotham was being militarized — that was exactly Thea's plan. She had no personal stake in this city; coming here to lend a hand already counted as charity. What, did they expect her to fight for free for five years out of moral obligation? Don't be ridiculous.
The whole "Bat-family" was a textbook case of heroic-ideology poisoning. They believed Gotham's citizens were fragile reeds ready to snap at the first gust of wind, and that it was therefore their sacred duty to rush to the front lines of every disaster. In truth, the citizens weren't that weak, and the villains weren't that strong. If you could rally the masses — the "people's war," as the saying went — you'd win easily in a city like Gotham where the power scale wasn't even that high.
Heroes loved to shoulder responsibility. Their guiding principle — "With great power comes great responsibility" — wasn't wrong, but timing mattered. When the entire city was burning and crawling with criminals, acting as a tiny task force picking them off one by one was pure fantasy. The real priority was restoring order and uniting the people. The criminals were a handful; the citizens who just wanted peace were the overwhelming majority.
"I have a proposal," Thea said at last, seeing their silence stretch on. "Since Batman isn't here, we should choose a leader."
Barbara's lips curled into a sneer. "Ha, so that's your real goal." Her face said, Finally showing your true colors, huh?
Thea honestly didn't know why she clashed so hard with this woman. They had no personal grudge, yet something about Barbara's attitude rubbed her the wrong way — and judging by the look on Barbara's face, the feeling was mutual. Maybe it was just bad chemistry.
Thinking about it, the two women she disliked most so far were Barbara Gordon, the Batgirl, and Laurel Lance, the Black Canary. Huh — both of them were members of the Birds of Prey. Natural enemies, apparently.
She'd even had two long talks with Laurel before. In theory they should've been on good terms — whichever Queen brother Laurel ended up with, Oliver or Tommy, she'd still be family. But those conversations had been the definition of dull. Talk about jewelry? Laurel would complain about her single-dad childhood and tight finances. Talk about law? Thea would admit that as a future vigilante, she probably wouldn't be following any of those laws. The result was what diplomats call "a friendly exchange of views." In plain language: polite nonsense, no substance.
Thea found that self-righteous heroines with no real ability always rubbed her the wrong way. She didn't even bother answering Barbara's jab. Instead, she glanced around to gauge the others' reactions.
Robin stayed silent as ever. Catwoman wanted to back Thea but didn't want to fracture her team, so she held her tongue. Commissioner Gordon was as invisible as furniture — always "present" in these meetings, never actually participating.
It wasn't that the Bat-team didn't respect him; it was just habit. The heroes fought the villains, and the cops cleaned up afterward. Gordon himself had long since accepted that arrangement.
So this was the Bat-family's usual dynamic, huh? The boss talked, the rest obeyed. Watching their half-dead expressions, Thea took their silence as consent.
"All right," she said, "then I propose Commissioner Gordon take overall command. The rest of us form strike teams under his direction. How's that sound?"
She let her gaze sweep across the group, savoring their reactions. Barbara's was the most amusing — at first she looked dazed, half-thinking Thea had just nominated her. Then, after the words sank in, she realized that the key term had been "Commissioner." Accepting her father's leadership clearly left her torn between pride and discomfort.
Robin, however, reacted instantly. He'd already decided that pleasing his girlfriend's father was good diplomacy. "Miss Thea is absolutely right!" he said enthusiastically. "Commissioner Gordon leading us is an excellent idea." He even flashed a flattering smile at his future father-in-law.
Catwoman had no reason to object either. She'd known Gordon since her teenage years, when he was still a beat cop. He'd looked out for her like a surrogate father; without his protection she'd have landed in jail a dozen times.
Felicity nodded along too, just to show she was paying attention.
Gordon himself was bewildered by the sudden turn of events. One moment he'd been the token observer, the next he was sitting at the head of the table. The world moved fast. But seeing that even the Bat-crew had no objections, he accepted it without fuss.
At his age, leading a few young heroes wasn't an issue. He'd led Bruce once, after all — back when the boy had still followed orders instead of giving them. The shift in hierarchy later had been purely a matter of muscle. Strength decides rank; that's universal.
Thea felt a wave of relief as Gordon took charge. Following his orders was far better than letting the Bat-brats lead; under them she'd probably die without even knowing how. Grabbing command herself would only provoke resistance and fracture the group — pointless, given that she was just a temporary ally.
And really, this arrangement suited her perfectly. She wasn't here to play hero; she was here to survive. If some veteran wanted to shoulder the burden, let him.
As for whether the Commissioner's new role would paint a bigger target on his back — Thea figured after thirty-plus years of being Gotham's lightning rod, he could handle a few more days.
With that "mountain of responsibility" off her shoulders, Thea leaned back in her chair feeling unburdened. She'd known things were grim back on the helicopter, but seeing Gotham up close made her realize even "grim" needed an extra "very."
It was like being a freshly leveled player dragged into a high-level raid, only to discover the tank had been kidnapped and the remaining DPS wanted to charge the boss anyway. How could she not interfere?
Her original plan had been to pick a leader from among them, but after seeing this group in action she'd had to pull a substitute from the bench. Gordon wasn't exactly a "gold-tier tank" like Batman, but he was at least a solid "bronze-tier leg."
And truthfully, Gordon admired Thea's methods. If every crisis required heroes to carry the load, what was the point of the police? His life's work would be meaningless. He'd kept silent earlier only because his daughter clearly disliked the newcomer.
Though Thea had stayed polite, Gordon could hear the disapproval in her tone toward the Bat-team's way of doing things. Deep down, he agreed. He'd never been fully comfortable with Batman's philosophy of "fighting fear with fear." From skepticism to anger to resignation, he'd gone through every stage before finally accepting it.
Now, seeing this bright, logical girl from Star City, he felt something stir again — an old hope he thought he'd buried long ago. Maybe, just maybe, she represented a new way for Gotham to survive.